Chapter 1
Willow
To-Do List
Meet Cruz’s friend
Find a new coffee order
I stepped forward in line, my gaze jumping down the menu, surreptitiously glancing left and right to make sure no one was staring.
My hair fell over my shoulders and hopefully obscured my face, but when I glanced up, the blonde waiting for her drink kept looking at me, her brow scrunched as if on the edge of recognition.
I tugged on my cardigan hoping for cover.
“Todd!” the barista at the other end of the counter shouted over the rumble of ten conversations and one screaming baby. “Iced chai latte with extra caramel for Todd!”
An iced chai latte might be good. I tried to catch a look at Todd and his drink of choice, but his body was already turned away.
The line moved forward again, and my own personal panic percolated as my turn neared and a spark of recognition crossed the face of the blonde.
She jabbed a friend next to her, but I looked away quickly before they could see my face.
I just had to decide on a drink order and then I could hide in the back.
I’d had this idea that the story hadn’t made it to Iowa, like a hearty Midwestern sensibility would make people above the pull of a viral video or catchy meme.
Clearly, I was wrong, as the two women were audibly hypothesizing about who I was; so my first big, brave outing in public was going exactly how I’d feared.
I would have fled if I wasn’t meeting a man my brother had described as a “tall white guy who looks equally likely to rescue you from a burning building as to offer you pot.” It wasn’t a comforting or helpful description, and I was annoyed all over again that my brother took it upon himself to find me a babysitter while I was in town, as if I was four and not twenty-four.
Cruz said it was just so I had someone if I needed anything while house- and dog-sitting for him for a few months, but he was as bad at hiding his concern as he was at describing people.
I didn’t see any pot-dealing firefighters in the room, though, and I was next in line.
Decision time. I put my metaphorical fist down in my mind.
Time to decide. Just pick something new.
New state. New life. New drink. It’s easy.
Spencer is probably trying all kinds of new things.
The idea crept in through the crack in my resolve, which led to what he’d said in the park replaying on a loop in my head, the words I thought were the start of a proposal.
“Willow, you were my first love…” He’d paused and focused his gaze over my shoulder, which should have signaled to me that something bad was coming.
And then he’d just said it. “But you won’t be my last. This isn’t working for me and I need something more.
I met someone else.” I never got more of an explanation, because after I reacted, I fell in the fountain.
Then he was gone. I sucked in a shaky breath and stared again at the menu, willing away the memory.
New drink, something that doesn’t remind me of Spencer. I could do this.
White mocha? Green tea? A refreshing concoction of fruit and sugar?
The barista by the drive-thru window was looking at me with wide eyes, and I ducked my chin to hide my face the way I’d gotten used to doing.
“What can I get you?” The woman behind the counter smiled brightly, and there was a cat sticker next to her colorfully decorated name tag.
It was a simple question. It was so easy, but my mind whirred. What did I want? For things to go back to how they were, for everything to be different, and mostly to not be recognized.
“Hey, are you that girl?” The two women by the counter, both now holding large iced coffees, approached me. “The Drowning Girl? You look just like her!”
I hated that title. Drowning Girl. Even if I’d felt like I was drowning since that day.
I tried to ignore them as if they were talking to someone else, but the taller of the two touched my elbow.
“Sorry, aren’t you Drowning Girl?” She lowered her voice this time, as if she hadn’t already practically shouted it. “From that video?”
I shook my head and pulled my hair forward. “Sorry, not me.”
“Would you like to try our Spring-Colada?” The barista looked between me and the taller woman, but motioned to a display featuring a drink stacked with whipped cream and sprinkled with coconut flakes and what looked like shamrock sprinkles.
I might have ordered that if I was someone who spoke up and stood my ground.
Then I’d be a totally different person like I needed to be, someone full of life and energy and skin made of Teflon to deflect these kinds of conversations.
That wasn’t me, though. I watched the clerk’s micro expression of frustration form at my hesitation.
“You look just like her! Can we take a selfie anyway?” The tall woman was oblivious to the commotion she was causing. “The Drowning Girl video trend is so hot right now.”
I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. I’d seen some of the videos using the filter that could make anyone look like they were living the most embarrassing moment of my life. “Sorry, I’m meeting someone,” I mumbled.
“Please?” She held out her phone. “It will just take a second.”
“Okay. But I’m not her.” My face felt like it was on fire, and I nodded and leaned toward them, needing this little show to end and for them to leave. When I finally looked back to the barista, her smile was gone and her jaw set. “Sorry,” I said.
“You do look like her,” she said, the skeptical lilt to her voice a clear sign she didn’t believe my lie. “What do you want to order?”
“Large dark roast and medium iced caramel latte.” I blurted out the familiar, automatic answer in a panic and tapped my credit card.
Old life: one. Willow: zero.
An iced caramel latte was fine. I’d loved them in high school.
Spencer said he always appreciated that my order never changed so he could remember it, and back then, I’d wanted to make being with me as easy as possible.
So, I let that be my standing order. I looked at the customer behind me deciding to take the barista up on the offer to try the Spring-Colada “for the hell of it,” and I was jealous.
It turned out I should have tried a lot of things for the hell of it—keeping my coffee order easy to remember didn’t keep my relationship intact.
The barista had already moved on to the next customer before I could admit I’d made a mistake and that the person I’d accidentally ordered the dark roast for was fifteen hundred miles away, probably enjoying his new relationship.
A dark roast and a caramel latte had been my standard coffee shop order since I was fourteen.
Now the paper cup of brewed coffee would sit on the table as a reminder I’d been dumped and left alone, single for the first time since the eighth grade.
My first attempt at reinventing myself and I had the same two beverages I’d had in my hands for a decade.
I drummed my fingers on the table and glanced at my phone. Maybe Cruz’s friend wouldn’t show, and I’d get to go home to sulk in peace where the only one who would recognize me would be my brother’s dog. After I got rid of this damn black coffee.
My phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime request, and I hoped it would be Cruz calling to say his friend couldn’t make it, but no such luck.
“Hey,” I said, happy to see my best friend’s face.
“So,” Zoe dove in without preamble. “You promise you’re coming back in three months, right? You won’t fall in love with Iowa and some beefy farmer, will you?”
I smiled, sipping my iced latte. My best friend, a Denver native, would never accept that Iowa wasn’t all farms. “I’ll be back,” I said, picturing the boxes I’d hastily stacked in Zoe’s second bedroom. “I only promised Cruz I’d take care of his house and his dog while he’s overseas, nothing more.”
I hadn’t needed to tell Cruz I was out of options when Spencer and I split and the video of my “drowning” went viral.
It probably wasn’t hard to figure out I’d lost my boyfriend and my home in one swoop.
Add to that me losing my job once my unfortunate notoriety made me a liability, and he’d known getting out of town was my best option.
Our grandpa’s old house, the one Cruz had slowly been updating every time he took leave, was a perfect place to escape to.
“Good. I can’t wait to help you move on from Spencer!
There are so many guys I have to set you up with.
” I ran a fingertip around the edge of my cup, biting back the automatic defense of my ex that rose in my throat, that despite everything, I missed him being next to me.
He’d been my person. Zoe didn’t get it, but I’d known Spencer since I was thirteen.
We’d seen each other through everything.
We’d been a package deal and, as evidenced by the extra coffee, it was hard to remember we weren’t even together anymore. Still, I plastered on a smile.
“I know you’re sad,” she added. “Offer stands to let you cry on my shoulder anytime, but let me first change into something I don’t mind getting covered in tears and snot.”
I covered my mouth at the chuckle that escaped, not wanting to draw attention from other customers who might notice me.
“But eventually, you’re going to love being single.
” Zoe continued listing off her favorite things about being unattached.
“No conferring with another human about what to eat for dinner. Popcorn and vodka or duck à l’orange.
That reminds me. I should hit up the farmers market. ”